You're Mine
by Reda
Summary: After discovering that Prussia's been chatting up the girls at the bar, Canada's anger rises and he plans a little surprise for the flirty albino. [PruCan/ CanPru]


**Author Notes**: I have some explaining to do. This is in the same universe as One Month – just way, way far in the future. I've kept any spoilers for the series out of this little scene, though. Tiny spoiler, though, is that in the future Gilbert has citizenship and works in the town that Canada lives around. Gilbert's job is a local bartender. (If you read the shorts in "You Belong To Me" there's one where Canada gives him a birth certificate and citizenship so Gil can work and have his own money while living in Canada so he doesn't have to worry about Canada paying for everything.))

-Also, for fans of One Season (sequel to One Month), I am working on the next chapter. It should be out within the week. I just needed a break, because I'm also working on a serious original fantasy novel as well as this. So. Yeah. I needed a sexy break. No worries.

**Warnings**:BDSM, dominate Canada, toys, BUT you also have to know that there's kind of hetero-sexual activities involved in this. It's a little complicated to explain without giving away the "plot" but there's your warning. It's just Canada sexing Prussia but – eh – the scene kinda...well, just read and find out. If you get squeamish you can always leave.

~!~

You're Mine

1 – The Set Up

~!~

Gilbert yawns as he rubs the back of his head and opens the front door to Canada's house. He still smells the sunscreen from earlier in the day and the beer and smoke from the bar. He's tired, sweaty, and trying to decide if he should go for the shower first or just fall asleep as soon as he can make it up to the bedroom. If he's even allowed in the bedroom. After the glare his Birdie sent him before leaving the bar, Gilbert isn't sure if he's been forgiven yet or not. Oh well. The couch will work. As long as he can get a nap he doesn't care. Being called into work a double shift is not how he had wanted to spend his day and night.

He closes the door behind him, yawns again, and sets the keys on the entry-way dresser. He stretches, noting how Gilbird and the new baby bird additions are long gone, probably having come home to sleep when he was busy working the bar. His choice of the black "Chick Magnent" shirt had turned out more literal than he had intended, though he had gotten his normal attention from the flirtatious girls as well so he supposed it was worth it.

His hand is in the middle of reaching up to slip the sunglasses off the top of his head when the light flashes suddenly into existence. Bright as all hell, causing his tired albino eyes to slam shut and his arm to move in front of his vision as if he can block it. "Scheisse," he curses. "What the hell?"

"Gilbert," at the voice and the exceptionally long pause, Prussia feels his breath catch his throat. Canada is still awake, and by the sound of it, still pissed. "Take your shirt off. I'm tired of looking at it."

He can hear his Birdie's voice, coming from the stairs somewhere in front of him. That's where the light must be coming from, too. The light that makes it impossible to find Canada, to see much of anything, no matter how much he squints. He's not really sure what to expect from this side of Matthew, either. It's only happened a few times in their time together, usually when Prussia's done something to piss him off. Or during hockey season, but those moments are different.

Still, he knows better than to argue or fight. Matthew might start throwing stuff at him if he's really mad, and this sounds like it's going somewhere fun at least. So he pulls his shirt off, knocking the sunglasses off along the way, and sets them both on the dresser beside the keys. It feels good to get out of the shirt, though he still smells like beer and smoke and he's still sweating. Having the house's air conditioner hit his skin feels good enough to almost make him forget why Matthew would hate the shirt. Chick magnent. The girls at the bar.

Oh, _scheisse_.

"Good boy." A shiver passes through him at the choice of praise. Yeah. It's definitely going to be an interesting night. "Now, kneel."

He groans at the command. Why always the kneeling? Can't they just go up to the bedroom and get his punishment over with? Maple syrup, a little bondage, maybe some slaps if he's really annoyed. Canada's always been a light one when it comes to this scene, not that Prussia really minds as long as he gets the sex (and once they really get going, his awesome self does end up taking charge so it's not all that bad anyway).

He decides to voice his complaint. After all, he's exhausted. A long scene, though normally hot and adorable with Canada, would just be annoying at this point. "Come on, Birdie, can't we just -"

"I said kneel, bitch!" The flashlight blinks off, then on, as Prussia stumbles down to his knees at the shout. "Good boy."

Again with the insult-laced praise, and again with the shiver up his spine. As much as Prussia hates being talked down to, whenever it's Canada there's a part of him that loves it. Loves it more than he should. He's given his heart to this man, and he loves every side of the normally quiet, cute Canadian. He loves submitting to him, whether it be as he is now or in the little gestures around the house that make life easier for his Birdie.

The annoying flashlight follows him down, hitting right at his eye level. His eyes are sensitive to light as it is, but adding in the fact that he's been up all day and working all night, he's tired, and that light hurts, which is more than he's willing to admit. So he shuts his eyes and hangs his head, which is most likely part of Canada's plan because Matthew knows all those annoying albinism ticks by now. That's the reason he's still got the smell of sunscreen on him, after all.

"Hands on the floor," Canada commands, and Prussia complies, hearing the man's voice much closer than before. He hears something else, too, a little jingle that tenses every muscle and brings back memories. A hand starts to pet his head, fingers coarsing through his hair. "Poor thing. I know that light must hurt, but don't worry. I have something that'll help."

It isn't what he thinks it is, because the next feeling is of soft cotton against his eyes. Cotton pressing against his eyes even, and he chances opening them slightly only to see nothing. Darkness. A blindfold. He feels it being tied around the back of his head and then fingers rubbing against his ears, as if consoling a puppy. He's not going to admit that the touch makes him twitch.

This is new. He gulps at a sudden thought. What else is new, then? Exactly how angry _is_ Canada? How far has he been pushed?

"There. Does that help?" The sweet voice is a ploy; he knows it; he's seen this before; he's lived this before, even if it's been with others.

But he can't help his hum when Matthew pets his hair like that. "J-ja."

There's a smack against his ass and he feels his face blush when he realizes he just got spanked. Like a disobedient child. That's new, too. He's not going to stand for _that_, and he's going to ignore the feeling in his pants, the one telling him he enjoys such treatment.

He's about to complain and snap something at Matthew that he's gone to a place he doesn't like. Except there's a voice at his ear before he has the chance to even open his mouth. "I don't want to hear German tonight. I want to hear French or English because that's what we speak in my nation. French if you know the word and trust me, Gilbert," Matthew's voice drops and Prussia shudders when a finger travels down his back between his shoulder blades. "I know exactly how much French you know."

_Not much_, is Prussia's thought. But he doesn't voice it. Birdie is right. If anyone could call his bluff on knowledge of the French language, it would be Matthew. Over the years, they've taught each other words and phrases here and there. And occassionally used them in their sex antics just to rile up the other person. But still, it isn't much.

He opts not to say anything. A challenge in and of itself. He doesn't like to keep quiet. He prefers to know exactly what's going on, too. But now he's dealing with a very angry Canadian boyfriend, so he decides to let the blindfold pass as well as the spanking. He can only stand humiliation going so far.

"Do you understand?" Canada asks him.

Without thinking, Gilbert answers. "Ja." A smack to his ass, harder this time, definitely not a hand being used, and he sucks in a breath, quickly correcting his response. "O-oui."

Ugh. He hates the sound of it. France speaking French almost all the time has made him hate it on one level, and Old Fritz preferring it to German has made him hate it on another level. The way it sounds, though, that's a mess in and of itself. When Canada speaks French it's quiet and cute and all the vowels flow correctly like a beautiful romance language should. When Prussia speaks French it's entirely too harsh and strange, the German accent screwing up all the romantic nuances that should be there. Besides the fact that when he speaks it he's reminded of Fritz – damn man had been so insistent on speaking French around him even when Gilbert begged him not to.

"Much better," Matthew says, his voice lightening up. Gilbert wants to growl something under his breath but thinks better of it. He's entirely too tired to fight this right now and he doesn't want to make the scene last any longer than is necessary. "Now, we're going to walk through the house, but with that blindfold I think you'll have some trouble. So I've brought a little something to make it easier."

His breath hitches when he hears the jingle again, and then he trembles slightly at the feel of a collar being placed around his neck. The jingle feels like a little tag, like a dog tag; he's going to have to look at it later, curious to see what Canada is using for him. Thankfully the material of the collar doesn't feel too constricting or cold or tight; at least his Birdie knew what _those_ triggers might be, making sure to give him plenty of room to not feel completely held down and yet still feel like the subservient submissive in the relationship.

"Come along, Gil," Matthew's voice is entirely too sweet for the scene. Or maybe just sweet enough.

But the tug makes it too easy to envision the leash and then his brain starts to envision other things. He stays right where he is and tries desperately not to shake. _It's not Russia. It's Canada. You're fine. You're in Canada. You can't see but it's Birdie, not him. He's pissed at you, that's all. It's just a little lesson because he got jealous. _

At some point he manages to start his crawl. Enough tugs and he's moving behind his master like a good little pet. He swallows and keeps reminding himself that he's safe. This is a scene, not something serious. He's perfectly safe. He's thankful that he was allowed to keep his jeans on, because crawling along the floor with bare skin would have been painful. Well, more painful than the ache he is currently feeling.

He hears a door open and he's trying to remember what room could possibly be on the bottom floor that would be safe for a scene...when Matthew speaks. "Okay, we're going down some stairs now, so I want you to be extra careful and slow and stay with me, eh?"

Prussia freezes immediately. "Basement," he says, his tongue feeling numb and dry.

"Oui. Is that a problem?"

He hardly hears the words from his Birdie. Other images run rampant through his mind at the mention of going down to the basement. He even backs up away from where he imagines the stairway is, feeling the leash tug roughly on his collar. He doesn't care. Basement. His mind filters away to the past and he starts to close in on himself. Russia had him in the basement for far too long. He'd be let out but any serious punishments related to his performance would be carried out in the basement. Sure, he lived in Germany's basement later, but he was never pushed down there blindfolded and on his knees. _Not that. Not again. Please not that. Please don't do this. I don't want to do this. I can't -_

"Gil, you have a safe word," Matthew's voice is by his ear, sounding worried instead of annoyed.

The reminder – and Canada's caring voice – is enough to help him relax. He is safe. He's in Canada. Canada would never hurt him, not like the others. His heart chose a good one this time. His heart is safe here; _he_ is safe here. This is just a game. Just a scene. It means something, yes, and there's a reason Birdie is annoyed enough to do it, yes, but it's still just a scene. He can handle this.

Exhaling his breath, he gives a nod and a shaky smile. Unlike the others, Birdie won't beat him for smiling in a scene. Especially not when it's just a way to communicate.

To his relief, Canada takes the cue and moves on with his plan. The trip down into the basement is slow and somewhat painful on his hands and knees, but Canada is patient and even encouraging, which is a mix of appreciative and embarrassing. The scene is obviously built to humiliate him, and he's a little wary about what he's going to find down here. But he has to remind himself. This is Canada. Whatever his plans, it won't be anything too outrageous.

Once they reach the basement floor, Gilbert feels hands on his collar and he hears the leash being disconnected, though the dog collar remains. "Now, Gilbert, I want you to find the bed down here. It's not very high up so you can do it easily enough. I'm not going to lead you around all the time. You have to make discoveries on your own."

_Are you serious? _

Fine. Make him work. Even though he's been working all day and all night, now he's expected to search through a basement he didn't even know existed in this house. For a bed. He sighs and starts to crawl around, poking his hand out before moving on. At one point, he nearly falls over because of a toy, though a curious search with his hands makes his face turn red. He has never seen sex toys in Matthew's possession and finding what he suspects to be a dildo down in the basement makes him wonder what other crazy things are down here. What sexual deviant side has his Birdie been hiding from him all this time?

...and why would he hide it in the first place?

Eventually, he manages to find the bed. If you could call it a bed. It's soft, though maybe it's just covered in pillows. Or the entire bed feels like he's crawling on pillows. He can't tell. He can't see so he just has to guess by what he feels, though he's pretty certain he's found the "bed." He crawls around on it for a while before just huffing and sitting down somewhere, turning his head to try to find where his Birdie is hiding.

"Good job. Took you longer than I expected, though."

Prussia growls at the comment. That was an insult to his pride. He would not stand for another one of those. How much time did he think it took to find something when blindfolded? He can't _see_. He has experienced blindness before, but he hasn't been expected to find something. And he had Matthew there the entire time helping him, anyway, not ordering him around to go fetch a fucking bed.

He feels the bed dip a bit as Matthew no doubt sits down close to him. There's a hand pressing against his back. "Lay your head down but stay on your knees," comes the order, so Prussia does, letting his face fall into the fluffy-feeling pillow-bed. "Yeah. Just like that."

His arms are taken and his wrists are tied together behind his back. His ass is in the air. His jeans are still on but the position is making him wish for them to be off. He groans, feeling the muffled sound vibrate back into his face, hoping his Birdie could hear him. He knows better than to talk too much. He doesn't want to get smacked again for not speaking in French, so it's better to just remain silent and pretend like he's gagged – something Matthew never seems to think of doing.

"Are you horny already?" Canada asks and Prussia answers with a muffled and half-hearted "Oui" because he really hates speaking French but he knows Canada is wanting a voiced answer there. He hears the man click his tongue between his teeth. "You really are addicted to sex. This will be good for you, then."

Gilbert has no idea what Matthew is planning, but after hearing this he's officially curious. Intrigued. Sure, he knows he's addicted to sex. He loves it. He loves the flirting that leads up to it, he loves the act itself, and he loves the pillow talk that usually comes afterwards. He especially loves it with his Birdie, and he loves how Canada is so willing to share his kink, though this part is usually only used for actual punishments when he does something to piss off the usually quiet, cute Canadian.

"I'm going to tell you a story," Matthew says, shifting around on the bed until Gilbert can feel hands in his hair, gently brushing. He rolls his eyes behind the blindfold. Fucking tease. This is going to be much longer than he's willing to put up with, he can feel it. "This story starts with you and three very attractive girls."

At the words, Gilbert feels his heart skip a beat. There it is. The reason for this scene, the reason Canada is pissed, the reason this is going to take longer than he wants. The girls at the bar. The ones that are regular customers. The ones who flirt with him constantly, who are rewarded with an occassional free drink (because he is an awesome bar tender and he knows how to bring in the ladies). Tonight when Matthew had been in the bar, though, had been the worst possible timing for the girls to show up.

They had been tempting, of course, and flirtatious and expecting him to flirt back as usual, but with Birdie there Gilbert had held himself back and forced himself to be good. _I was good. I was good, Birdie! I didn't do anything!_

"Let's start with Stella, okay?"

The image comes to his mind easily. Being blindfolded really helps with it, too, since he has no outward distractions. He can see her as if she were right in front of him. He likes to call her Twilight because she dresses like Twilight Sparkle, all the purple and black in her hair and the frills just like her gala dress, and she even knows the show and loves the characters and will occassionally call him Dash or Dashie when they're in a particular pony-flirting mood. It's fun. She's fun.

Yet he can tell that Birdie absolutely hates her. Probably because of the kiss she stole that one time, and the fact that she was bragging about it at the bar tonight. Prussia flinches. Maybe that's why Canada is so mad.

"You call her Twilight," the hands petting his hair suddenly grip down hard and Prussia hisses at the unexpected feeling. "Because she dresses like her and loves your crazy obsession almost as much as you do. You two are great friends. You talk about ponies, the show, the fans, the actors, you two share all kinds of crazy discussions. And you aren't even ashamed to talk about a little girl's show while serving beer, especially not when it's getting you attention from such an attractive female."

Prussia nods to himself. This much is true. He is a little wary about discussing ponies or wearing his awesome Rainbow Dash shirts at the bar when he's working, but as long as he's talking with a hot chick it doesn't matter. His reputation stays in tact and everything is cool.

"So, one night she invites you over to her house and you agree to follow for whatever reason. Maybe it has to do with marathoning all the seasons of your pony show and staying up until the new premier shows."

At this, Prussia frowns. That's never happened before. Besides there's no reason for him to go over to someone else's house to watch ponies – he has it all on DVD here thanks to his Birdie. But Canada doesn't really watch with him, so maybe the temptation to watch with someone else would get him to visit his Twilight friend. Ah well. Birdie's always telling him it's a good idea to meet and hang out with the people of your nation once in a while. So he wouldn't be mad just for visiting a chick and watching ponies with them, right?

"Of course what you don't realize is that she's ultimately asking you to participate in an orgy. But I'll slow down so you can understand." The harshness in Matthew's tone causes Gilbert's breath to catch in his throat and the hands leave his hair to travel down his spine, making him shiver. "You'll have a few beers, which is nothing. You don't get drunk off of beer. So she'll start taking shots with you. She'll invite her friend Rachel and the party will grow. And of course you'll meet her boyfriend Steve."

Prussia blinks as the easily imagined scene suddenly cracks. _Steve? Who the fuck is that?_

Matthew sighs, as if recognizing Gilbert's confusion. "If you don't know, Steve is also a common frequent visitor of your bar. He's likes to sit by the jukebox and change the music. He watches as Stella flirts with you. He doesn't mind. But you never notice him and he likes it that way, because he just hangs in the back and controls the music that you hardly pay attention to anyway."

Prussia blinks behind his blindfold. That's a lot of information for Birdie to know about someone he's never met. Or has he met this Steve person before? Or is it all just part of the story? He tries to think back about what benefits come with knowing your people on a more intimate level. Could Canada actually know his people without having to meet them beforehand? Isn't that cheating?

"So you're in her house and you're doing shots and you're starting to feel a little tipsy." He makes sure to scowl; he doesn't get drunk, damn it! "Oh, I know. You don't get drunk, Gil, but this is a _lot_ of alcohol by this point. They're all drunk and you're stuck playing truth or dare with them and it's fun so you go ahead. You end up kissing Stella again."

Before Gilbert can protest that he would never kiss someone else willingly – because the accident with Stella was when she had caught him off guard – his head is forced to the side and something is pressed against his lips. It feels like he's kissing something, or someone, but it doesn't taste or feel like his Birdie and he's not quite sure what to make of it. When it's pulled away from him, he licks his lips, thinking about how it tastes like -

"She tastes like licorice and sex."

_Yeah. That. What the fuck?_

"And it's not your favorite but you love kisses so why not? When Rachel begs you for a kiss since you've given two to Stella now, you forget all about me and pull her in close by her shirt. Because you're always rougher when you're on-the-edge of being drunk."

_I am not_, he wants to say, but there's a different touch against his lips this time. He's trying to figure it out, imagining the bouncy blond-haired babe from the bar and wondering what she would taste like. Those tall shapely legs that always catch his attention when she's climbing into a stool, or rushing to the bathroom. The full head of hair that flows across her shoulders and poofs out with amazing volume. The large breasts that are always peeking out from her almost-not-appropriate shirts. He opens his mouth, curious to know what she would taste like, and Birdie actually pushes _something_ into his mouth for him to lick and suck. Definitely not Birdie. Tastes too much like -

"Rachel, on the other hand, tastes like bubblegum and mint. Which you like, but only in small doses. So you promise yourself not to do _that_ again as she reluctantly pulls away from you."

The object whatever-the-hell-it-is moves out of his mouth with a loud -pop- and Prussia finds himself wishing he hadn't sucked on it so much. That taste is not near as good as Stella's.

He tries to spit out the flavor as Canada continues speaking. "Anyway, the truth or dare starts to get kinda boring according to you, so you decide to take your turn to spice it up. People start losing their clothes. And pretty soon, the girls are helping you out of your pants because they were dared to undress you with their teeth."

At this moment, he feels fingernails undoing his jeans. Unsnap. Unzip. And then slowly removing them. His boxers remain but the air is much cooler now. Which is a blessing because those jeans were getting tight and he is starting to get rather hot. He just wishes this story could speed up; he's still wanting the sex, and then the cuddle-apologize time, and then the sleep. Most definitely the sleep.

"This is where they start touching you, and you touch back. Because screw truth or dare. Things are starting to get interesting."

He can feel light touches across his legs, and he can imagine the soft gentle hands of a female caressing him. They move up his legs, little fingers reaching up his thighs, rubbing over the fabric of his boxers, squeezing his ass. He lets out a sigh at the feeling. And then the hands move to his back and around to his chest, pinching at his nipples. He twitches and tries to move, only to have those hands snap to his hips and keep him still.

He gasps when a hand reaches down to feel out his dick. Then there's a voice by his ear as an expert hand grips him tightly. "You're hard already, Gilbert. This isn't good for you. You're enjoying it too much."

He whimpers. Hell yeah he is. Canada's being assertive and dominate and pissed off, but the scene and the images are enough to make him hard. It's not fair, really. Canada knows all his weak points, knows what he loves, what he's addicted to, and he's playing it out so well.

The hand leaves his dick and he lets out a whine, but Matthew ignores him and continues the story. "They eventually get you to talk about yourself, though you keep it short and simple and vague because there's no way they would understand nations and politics and the hardships of war. So you strut about proudly and proclaim how awesome you are, until one of them mentions dick sizes. Steve undresses completely and you're never one to turn down a challenge, so you do as well."

Finally, he's free. The boxers come off, quick and easy and his hard member is free to stick out and breathe. Gilbert sighs as the cool air hits his highest heat. Maybe now Canada will get to the good part of the story. Maybe now he can have his sexy time. He's craving it so bad right now. He almost has the thought to beg for it, but he keeps his mouth shut and listens. Patient. This is a game of tease and denial. He can be patient.

Still, he groans and whines when he feels a ring slide onto his cock. _Damn it, Birdie, that's not fair._ "At this point, the girls admire what you proudly show off, and you make your way into the bedroom where Ariel, the honest red-head, the third member of their female trio, is waiting."

_Finally. Give it to me, Birdie. _

As much time as it's taking, he does have to admit, though, that he's enjoying the scene, the story. Perhaps a bit too much. But the image of having three hot chicks swooning over him is enough to make his pride swell and enough to make him want to please them all. He's starting to forget that this is a punishment. With the blindfold on, he's starting to forget he's even in Canada's basement anymore.

There's no telling what kind of trouble he's about to encounter.

~!~

_A/N: Okay, so I think it's going to be about 3 chapters. Hah hah me and my 3 chapter sex fics. You guys have no idea. I work in threes when it comes to these kind of scenes apparently. Anyway, warning because the next part is going to be from the point of view of Prussia's vision, since he's starting to lose himself. As in, no more explanation of what Birdie is actually doing to him but detail in what Canada is telling him. Make sense? I know there are yaoi fangirls that hate hetero so I'm giving you fair warning. But it really is just Canada fucking with him – literally. Ah hah._

_~Thank you for all reviews/alerts/favorites; I appreciate them all ever so much and think anyone who reviews is quite brave indeed_

_~Reda_


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